Bedroom Therapy
by lollylips3
Summary: Arousing...Explicit....Climactic!...Hermione knows that this will be a hands-on situation. And Severus is like no other man she's met. But can the two of them deal with the morning after?


I wish I owned Severus and Hermione but.. Alas, I do not. I don't own really own anything, except a small dog that eats too much .So; don't sue me, JK Rowling and any other interested parties!

Warning: This is going to have sex scenes, if you don't like that, then this is not the story for you.

This is my First story and it has some muggle elements such as the use of cars etc. Hermione & Severus are room mates. Severus had been married before, but is now divorced. Please REVIEW!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!Bedroom Therapy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Severus stood by the living room window, gazing out into the night. He seemed to have spent a lot of time standing here. Earlier he'd taken a seat on the sofa, but he'd been too nervous to sit sill. So he'd gotten up and started pacing the room—and ended up at his favorite spot at the window.

He'd written the letter while he was out, then gone back into the house to leave it with the others. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. But during dinner, he'd started worrying about her reaction. He'd known he couldn't sit there dwelling on it, so he'd rushed her home and sent her to her room, where he'd knew she was going to discover the piece of notebook paper.

She'd had plenty of time to do that. And she hadn't come back to the living room. So what was going on in there?

Was she going to charge through the door at any minute and ask how dare he make such a raunchy suggestion? Was she going to order him out of the house? What?

He wasn't sure where he'd gotten the guts to write the letter. But he'd known where he'd gotten the idea.

It was when he was walking past the linen shop and had seen a gorgeous comforter in the window.

It was beige and gold, with a subtle red stripe running through the pattern. And he'd stopped and stared at the beautifully quilted fabric, picturing Hermione lying naked in the middle of the comforter. He'd been immediately hard as a lead pipe.

Impulsively, he'd gone and in and brought a queen-size comforter, because he knew that it would fit the bed in her room. Then he'd added other details that he knew would enhance the scene. The purchases were put in plastic bags and placed in the boot of his car.

He sighed. Maybe he should go outside and take a walk in the dark. Maybe that would cool him off.

Of course, he might find the door bolted when he came back. It would serve him right. He should never have written that letter. Maybe he could tell her he'd been under a kind of compulsion, because it was the truth.

He'd never had such intense desire for a woman. Not even in the early days when he'd been courting his wife. And certainly not since the divorce.

The need for Hermione burned inside him. But he couldn't do what most wizards would do with a witch whose essence had crept into their blood. It simply wasn't going to work. So he'd asked for something he could have.

Even now the thought of what he wanted from her brought a wave of sensual heat sweeping over his body. Yet at the same time, he was suffering the tortures of the damned waiting to find out what she was going to say.

He has been listening for any sound from the bedroom. The knob turning was like a shotgun shell being pumped into the chamber.

Then he heard her footsteps, light and slow, came down the hall. He wanted to keep his back to the room, but he forced himself to turn around and face her. Because waiting to hear what she was going to say was killing him- so he might as well get it over with.

The look in her eyes made his breath go shallow. She didn't speak as they stood regarding each other. It was agony to keep his arms at his sides and not fold then defensively across his chest.

Finally she cleared her throat. "Is this why you cut our dinner-table conversation short?" she asked.

"Yeah," he admitted, glad to get that part out into the open. "I couldn't sit there any longer wondering what you were going to say when you found the letter."

"You were right to worry about it. What did you say-that you thought it would help me in my work?"

He dragged in a breath and let it out before answering, "That was going too far."

"You're damn right," she shot back, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"That's not the point at all."

"What is the point?" he asked softly.

She didn't answer him. But she didn't turn around and leave either. Just the fact that she was still standing here gave him the measure of hope that he'd abandoned a few moments ago. Maybe she hadn't decided anything yet. Maybe she was still weighing her decision.

It flashed through his mind that if he closed the distance between them and took her into his arms, it might be easier to help her make up her mind. But he wasn't going to try it since it was just as likely that the move was going to blow up into his face.

"You described an activity that a lot of people might find objectionable."

"Do you?"

"Yes"

His hands clenched at his sides. He was thinking he might as well pack up and move out. Or maybe he could sleep out in his car. The comforter was already out there. He could always wrap himself up in it. But he stayed where he was, because the idea of leaving her alone made his stomach knot.

She was speaking again, and her words finally filtered through the buzzing of his brain.

"But then I started thinking...Do I really find it objectable, or am I just projecting what I learnt from my mother? Maybe it was a knee-jerk reaction, so to speak."

He swallowed hard "Which means what?"

"Which means that I let myself think about it for a while, and..and I..." She stopped, finishing the sentence with a little raise of her shoulder.

"You what?" he pressed, feeling that he was getting back control of the situation.

"The idea made me...aroused."

"Good," he said softly.

"It was exciting, but it was threatening, too."

"Why?"

"Because Id be putting myself on display."

"Maybe you'd find something out about yourself."

"Maybe," she conceded. "But I think it's more important to find out something about us."

He let that statement hang in the air between them. There were a few things he could say now, but she wasn't the only one who was nervous. So he fell back on a safe statement.

"I've never forced a woman into anything she didn't want to do."

"And you have done this kind of thing before?"

"No. I've been doing things with you that I've never done before. Never wanted to do. But being with you has made me...Adventurous."

"Oh"

"I was wondering around the mall, when I started having a fantasy about you. So I went into the bedding shop and brought some things."

"You did?"

"They're in the trunk of my car." Figuring that he might as well take the plunge, he went on rapidly, "What I'd like to do is fix up the bedroom-make it very romantic. Then you can come in, and we'll see what happens."

"Fix up the bedroom?" She gave a nervous little laugh. "What-have you been watching those DIY TV shows where two sets of neighbors spend two days transforming a room in each other's homes?"

"No. I just got a very strong vision of you in a very sensual setting." He couldn't hold back a little grin. "But apparently there are some aspects of DYI that do appeal to me."

It was a relief that she could relax enough to share the joke. With a small laugh, she said, "Apparently"

"So—what do you think? Are you willing to try it?"

"If we agree that I can stop—if this...game...makes me uncomfortable."

"Okay" he said quickly, because it was the only answer he could give her. "So, why don't you just relax and read out her. I'll unlock the sliding glass door in your room so I can go in and out without bothering you."

She gave an uncertain little nod. "All right."

"I'll go start getting ready. But first I want to give you something." He left the room, took a deep breath and let it out. He had started on this course, and he didn't seem able to stop. Hermione Granger had become an obsession, and he didn't like that.

But he knew he was reaching something with her. Something he wasn't able to put in words—not even in the privacy of his mind.

He stood in the darken kitchen for a moment—wondering if he was really going to go through with this crazy scheme. Then he reached for the door knob. Exiting through the kitchen, he opened the car and took one of the packages out from the trunk.

On the way back in he locked the door.

When he returned to the living room, he found Hermione sitting on the sofa. She was probably trying to look relaxed, but he could see the tense lines of her body.

He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms, and tell her they were both going to have a great time. But he knew himself. If he embraced her, he was going to start kissing her. And he wasn't going to let go.

And he needed to keep things on track. He'd gotten her agreement. And wanted very much to go on with the little game he'd suggested.

So he stayed where he was. Looking from her to the book. She'd taken his advice. He stepped forward and Hermione asked if he'd changed his mind

"Of course not!" He stepped towards her and handed her the bag. "I was just thinking about what I wanted you to wear. And I pictured you in this, nothing else."

She set the bag on the couch, then reached inside and brought out something thin and silky, wrapped in tissue paper.

He discovered he couldn't draw in a full breath as she carefully unfolded the paper. Inside was a very short dark-blue robe, a silk and lace confection that he knew would look wonderful with her hair and skin.

She didn't speak, and he found he had to break the silence.

"Do you like it?" he asked, hearing the catch in his own voice.

She kept her eyes on the robe, stroking her fingers over the soft fabric. "It's beautiful."

"Then wear it for me when you come into the bedroom."

"And when will that be?" she asked with a small quiver in her voice.

He needed to touch her—to reassure them both. Crossing the room, he stopped beside the sofa, cupping his hand over her shoulder, feeling the fine structure of her bones beneath his fingers.

He closed his eyes, caressing her. When he heard her little indrawn breath, he roused himself.

"I'll be back as soon as I can get ready. In about an hour, I hope." He needed to leave, then. Before he spoiled everything by grabbing her.

So he exited the living room and started down the hall. Stepping into the bedroom, he looked around. He already knew the layout. Already knew some of things he was going to do.

He kept his mind to the task at hand, trying not to think about where this was leading. If he thought about that now, he'd be too aroused to get anything done.

So he focused on each small step as he leaned the mattress and the box springs against the wall so that he could get at the bed frame. Quickly he took the frame apart, leaving the wicker headboard in place. Then he opened the sliding glass door and took the frame and the box of springs outside. With the structure of the bed out of the way, he positioned the mattress against the headboard—then went out to get the purchases he'd left in the car.

He smiled as he spread the comforter over the mattress, creating a soft, appealing surface that was low to the floor. Like the bedding in a nomad King's tent. Then he changed the pillowcases for the beige silk one's he'd brought—along with a half dozen other pillows, which he piled along the headboard. When he was satisfied with the effect, he went on with the other preparations.

Hermione sat in the living room, he eyes focused on the book. Severus had said he'd be about an hour, and she told herself she could still go down the hall and tell him she'd changed her mind. But she knew she wasn't going to disappoint him that way. Or disappoint herself.

So she kept her unseeing gaze on the book and played with the fringe of the throw that she'd folded over the back of the sofa. The robe lay on the sofa beside her.

Should she put it on? And sit here feeling half naked?. No, she'd wait until he told her he was ready.

She could hear him in the bedroom, moving things around. What was he doing in there?

Well, she supposed she'd find out soon.

She'd lead a pretty tame life. And this was the craziest thing she'd ever agreed to do. And also the most exciting. She could already feel moisture gathering between her legs. Why?

Well, because of what Severus had asked her to do. She was too keyed up to sit still just waiting for what was going to happen. Then an idea struck her. Instead of just sitting here with her nerves jumping, she could definitely find something to occupy her time.

Quickly she hurried down the hall, glanced furtively at the closed bedroom door, then slipped into the bathroom, where she opened her makeup kit.

Inside was a bottle of red nail polish, which she'd thought she might use while she was down here. She hadn't bothered with it until now.

Grinning, she brought the bottle back to the couch. After using roles of tissue to hold her toes apart, she began to polish her toenails.

When she'd finished, she admired the effect. She was thinking of touching up the little toe on her left foot when she heard the bedroom door open. The footsteps came slowly down the hall, making a zing of electricity go through her. Quickly she lowered her legs so her feet were hidden by the coffee table.

Severus walked back into the room, and turned to her, with the intensity in his eyes was like a searchlight. She might have ducked away; instead she raised her head questioningly towards him—struggling to keep herself steady without taking her lower lip between her teeth.

"It's time to put on that robe," he said, and she knew by the little brake in his voice that he wasn't as calm and collected as he looked.

She stood, stiffening her legs when she felt herself start to sway. Reaching down, she gathered up the robe. "I'll put it on. But you have to do something for me, too."

"What?"

"Take off your shirt. If we're going to do this, I need to see your naked chest."

"I can do better then that," he growled.

"How?"

"You will have to wait and see, wont you?"

She looked away from the gleam in his eyes, once again questioning her sanity. Her month was dry as she snatched up the robe and headed for his bathroom.

Severus stood there with his pulse pounding in his ears as he watched Hermione disappear into the bathroom. She was really going to do it. At least he hoped to hell she wasn't going to chicken out now.

The sound of the lock clicking released him. Shaking his head to clear away the fog, he headed for his own room.

He never wore pajamas. But he spent some time considering how he should be dressed for this evening's activities. Seeing a display of very sexy looking men's nightwear had helped him make his mind.

He picked out a burgundy pair of pajamas with a subtle pattern of navy stripes.

Closing the door to his room, he began to pull off his clothing. First his shoes. Then his shirt. Finally his slacks and shorts. The last part was a little difficult to manage because he was so turned on that his huge swollen erection was definitely in the way.

But he'd never heard of a guy who couldn't have sex because he was trapped in his clothing. So he eased his pants off. Then pulled on the pajama bottoms. The pants had no buttons or zippered fly. Only a folded –over slit at the front, and he had to maneuver himself so that he wasn't poking through the fabric.

He stopped and leaned his head and shoulders against the door, feeling the blood pounding in his veins. Particularly in the lower part of his body.

He thought about what she'd see when they met again. His arms were good—nicely muscled. And his shoulders were broad. Did Hermione like a guy with hair on his chest? Some women didn't. He hoped she didn't mind a nice dark thicket. Well, it was too late to think about that now. He wasn't going to get rid of it. When he heard the lock on the bathroom door click again, he closed his eyes for a moment, then stepped into the hall.

The light was dim, but the sight of Hermione in that robe took his breath away. She'd brushed out her hair so that it was a brown halo around her head. She'd put on a little makeup. Not much-just a little eyes shadow and blusher that subtly brought out the natural beauty of her features.

He looked down the length of her body, pausing to admire the tight points of her nipples and the brown triangle of hair he could just make out at the top of her legs.

Her feet were bare, but he felt something in his chest turn over when he saw the red polish in her nails. She hadn't been wearing the polish yesterday, because he would have noticed. So he knew she'd done that for him. For his pleasure, and he had to press his hands against his thighs to keep from reaching out for her.

When he glanced up, he saw that she was looking at him with frank appreciation. Maybe chest hair turned her on.

But it wasn't his upper body that she mentioned.

"Nice pajamas," she said, and he knew she could clearly see the erection poking out the fabric.

"I'm glad you like them," he managed to say. Then, "Come see if you like the bedroom."

He stepped aside to let her pass, and then caught his breath as one of her silk-clad arms brushed against his.

Again, he had to clamp down on the impulse to reach for her. He wanted to drag her body against his.

He wanted to feel the length of her pressed against his heated flesh. But he knew that was the wrong thing to do. He had spent a lot of time setting up his fantasy, and they both need to see it through. At least, he did. He hoped she could stay with him.

She stepped forward, into the bedroom.

He couldn't see her face, and when he heard her make a small sound, he found he was fighting to breathe around the lump that suddenly clogged his throat as he waited for her re-action to his evening's work.

Well, that was the first chapter done. The next should be up soon. Hope you like it so far.

What to look forward to next chapter...Will she like the room? Will they have hot sex all night? Or will she leave him to fulfill his own fantasy?

Hugs and Kisses

Lollylips3


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